


Strawberry wine

by HanaSheralHaminail



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Songfic, Summer Love, Sweet, T'hy'la, also some angst, mentions of Tarsus IV, strawberry wine, they meet when Spock is 17 but I've kept in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanaSheralHaminail/pseuds/HanaSheralHaminail
Summary: “Hello, stranger! Welcome!” the human greeted cheerfully, covering the remaining three-and-a-half meters between them with a bounce in his step and a bright smile painted upon his face.Dizzied by the overwhelming display of emotion, the Vulcan failed to answer at once, but the boy did not seem to mind: he took his bag from him – ignoring his faint, barely-begun protest – and shouldered it.“I’m Jim Kirk!” he told him, hopping over the porch to the open door. He turned towards his guest and raised his hand in the ta’al. “Live long and prosper!”Spock blinked, then copied his gesture, a little thrown by his general enthusiasm and his knowledge of a language that was amongst the most difficult for a human to learn. “Peace and long life,” he answered in a low tone, “I am S’chn T’gai Spock. I am grateful for your hospitality, Mister Kirk.”Hazel eyes widened at the title, and the boy chuckled. “Just call me Jim, Spock, no need to be formal!”





	Strawberry wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notagoddamnbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notagoddamnbird/gifts).



> Well, this is born from a 'prompt' by @boldlygoingnovvhere on tumblr, who wanted a Spirk story based on the song 'Strawberry wine' by Deana Carter.  
> It somehow took a life on its own, and well, here it is! I do hope it meets your expectations!  
> A few notes: to fit the song, I made Spock 17 and Jim 15 at the beginning; to fit with the narrative, I put in Tarsus afterwards, which means Jim is slightly older than in the canon. Aside from a few mentions, this is honestly just pure fluff!
> 
> Please, enjoy!

**_Strawberry Wine_ **

 

_He was working through college_

_On my grandpa’s farm_

_I was thirsting for knowledge_

_And he had a car_

_Yeah, I was caught somewhere between a woman and a child_

* * *

  _Earth is a fascinating planet_ , Spock thought, looking up at a sky of bright blue with quiet awe written on his thin face. He thanked the driver of the hovercar who had taken him from the nearest city to the Kirks’ farm, and lifted his slim luggage in one hand, walking slowly across the tiny lane that was barely visible beneath the unkept grass. A sigh escaped him, though he would have denied ever feeling nervous or aflutter at the prospect of spending two point five months in a human house, so far from his own planet. _Kaiidth_ , it was required for his Foreign Studies that he _made contact_ with a different culture before he could even begin to think to apply at the Vulcan Science Academy.

Straightening his spine, he quickened his pace, and his eyes widened when he saw the ancient country cottage awaiting him at the other end of the lane and the golden-haired boy waving from afar. The air carried unknown, alluring scents, but Spock refused to give in to his curiosity, and stopped only when he reached the wooden fence, bowing before he walked through.

“Hello, stranger! Welcome!” the human greeted cheerfully, covering the remaining three-and-a-half meters between them with a bounce in his step and a bright smile painted upon his face.

Dizzied by the overwhelming display of emotion, the Vulcan failed to answer at once, but the boy did not seem to mind: he took his bag from him – ignoring his faint, barely-begun protest – and shouldered it.

“I’m Jim Kirk!” he told him, hopping over the porch to the open door. He turned towards his guest and raised his hand in the ta’al. “ _Live long and prosper_!”

Spock blinked, then copied his gesture, a little thrown by his general enthusiasm and his knowledge of a language that was amongst the most difficult for a human to learn. “Peace and long life,” he answered in a low tone, “I am S’chn T’gai Spock. I am grateful for your hospitality, Mister Kirk.”

Hazel eyes widened at the title, and the boy chuckled. “Just call me Jim, Spock, no need to be formal!”

“As you wish, Jim.”

“Now, before you ask… My mother’s off-planet.” A shadow of what looked vaguely like guilt crossed the human’s expression, and he started fidgeting. “I know she was supposed to be here for the whole summer, but…” He shrugged helplessly. “Starfleet called. Her presence was requested for a survey mission on planet Nibiru.”

“Nibiru?” Spock repeated, intrigued, finally speaking up, “Is it not the primitive planet with the highly unstable volcano?”

“Yup, that one!” Jim nodded. “So, well, it’s just us. If you’re… not okay with it I can arrange something different, but I can cook and I can get you basically anywhere in Iowa, and…”

“I have no objection to the change of plan,” the Vulcan hastened to assure him. This human seemed friendly and accommodating, which was more than he had dared hope to find, and he had no wish to _test his luck_ , as his mother would say. “I am gratified that you are willing to share your house with me.”

Jim smiled again, and Spock decided he could get used to it. “Then let’s get you settled. Follow me.”

He led the Vulcan up a high staircase, chattering animatedly all the while. “You’re staying in my brother’s room. He’s in Amazonia studying the rainforest.” He indicated that the alien should enter first, and Spock noticed that not once had the human touched him; he felt all his previous worry dissipate: perhaps he was going to enjoy this stay.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone to acclimatise.” Jim’s expression was warm. He pointed at a shelf laden with what looked like a series of delicate instruments: “Just don’t touch those, Sam’s really jealous of them. Oh, and I turned on the heater for you, so in an hour or so the temperature here will be pretty much Vulcan-like.”

Remembering just then the basics of human socialising, Spock blurted out a stiff: “Thank you,” wondering why the boy had gone to such great lengths just to put him at ease. “It was unnecessary trouble. I can adapt.”

Jim shook his head. “Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “And, lest I forget. Bathroom’s thataway.”

The Vulcan nodded and reclaimed his luggage, carefully setting it down on the clean, light wooden floor. He glanced out the window and saw a wide expanse of gold, reminiscent of the ocean, then returned his attention to the human, who was still speaking: “Okay, I’ll be next room if you need anything or just want some company. Lunch is in three hours.”

And with that, in a whirlwind of buzzing energy, he left; Spock realised he was still staring after him only when a stray butterfly crossed his line of sight, and he absentmindedly went to open the window just enough that it could fly away. Shaking himself off, the Vulcan emptied his bag of his few belongings and set them about the room, then he went to sit on the bed, wondering what he was supposed to do with the three hours he had left before the meal. He did not require meditation, nor was he tired enough to sleep, and writing to his mother did not take him longer than four point seventeen minutes.

Normally he would have chosen to remain alone for some studying or recreational reading, but Jim’s countenance made him believe the human would genuinely appreciate it if he sought his company -that Spock’s presence would actually be welcome. Deciding he had nothing to lose and everything to gain, he slipped out into the corridor and knocked softly at the doorjamb of the boy’s room.

“Come on in,” he said in a bright voice.

Jim was sitting at his desk, working carefully on the nearly finished model of a Starship. “It is very well done,” Spock complimented, leaning in to observe it more closely.

“It’s the USS Kelvin,” the human explained, “My father’s ship. He’s still out there, you know. Probably in another quadrant.”

“Your father is Captain George Kirk.”

“Yeah.” Jim placed the glue gun he had been using back on the table and turned around in his chair so he could offer the Vulcan another bright grin: “Is there anything you wanna do this morning? Anywhere you wanna go?”

Spock bit his lip for but a moment, having rarely been given the possibility of expressing a preference, and he contemplated his answer for maybe longer than was acceptable, even though the boy did not show any sign of impatience. “My mother told me about the wheat fields.”

The human hopped off his chair immediately. “Sure, let’s go!” He led the Vulcan outside the house and across the garden, all the way to golden fields of sweet-smelling wheat; they walked in companionable silence for a while, and Spock relaxed into Jim’s smiles and warmth. He turned on his Padd so he could take pictures of the alien flora and fauna he encountered along the way, and his guide was kind enough to name them for him, showing him nests and burrows.

“So your mother’s interested in terran culture?” The boy asked, stretching his bare arms over his head.

Spock looked at him sideways, feeling his earlier disquiet return tenfold. “My mother is human,” he murmured, “I thought you knew.”

Jim’s bright eyes swept over him in gentle curiosity. “No way, I would never have guessed!”

The half-blood swallowed and stopped in his tracks. “If you wish to discontinue our outing I will understand.”

“That’s… not at all what I meant. Sorry, it came out wrong.” The human frowned at him, then reached out very slowly to place a hand on his shoulder. “Of course I don’t want to discontinue our outing, Spock. Come on, there’s a lake nearby that you just have to see.”

* * *

_One restless summer we found love growing wild_

_On the banks of the river on a well-beaten path_

_It’s funny how those memories they last_

* * *

Jim laughed under his breath, gingerly holding the old reins in one hand as he caught Spock’s wrist with the other to adjust the lose grip he had on his waist. “Hold on tighter,” he warned, “It’s gonna get bumpy once she starts to trot.”

He had taken the Vulcan all around Iowa in the past week (they’d gone to museums and areas of interest, visited De Moines and Davenport, explored the wild forest and the countryside), and now he’d finally managed to convince him to go for a ride on his favourite mare. The half-blood had yielded quite gracefully, but he hadn’t been able to fully suppress his evident distrust of the animal, so the human had thought it best not to leave him alone with his own horse.

“I understand,” Spock muttered, and his cool breath tickled Jim’s left ear when he bowed his head to tie his long dark hair so it did not whip his face. “And you still insist it is safe?”

Kirk snorted, offering him a lopsided mocking grin: “That’s rich coming from the Vulcan who had a domesticated _sehlat_ ’round the house.”

“I-Chaya was loyal and deeply respectful of the house rules; aside from that, he had been trained by my father in his youth.”

Jim could almost _hear_ the Vulcan’s eyes narrow, and he knew he was raising his chin with an air of stubborn superiority while his unruly bangs fell back to reveal the sharp ends of his slanted eyebrows. A laughter escaped him, and he softly kicked the mare’s sides so she would quicken her pacing; then he patted Spock’s arm reassuringly: “Andromeda is the sweetest, tamest animal I’ve ever seen. Just stop shifting around so much, or I’ll have to call it quits.”

There was a pause in which it was clear the half-blood was contemplating the idea of terminating the adventure prematurely, then with a curt, barely-audible sigh he stilled.

“That’s better,” Kirk approved. “Now, if you’re good I’ll let you feed her some sugar.”

“I have no interest in allowing a horse to put its tongue on my hand,” the Vulcan groused, squeezing the human’s torso so tight it was nearly painful.

Holding back a cough, Jim tapped Spock’s wrist once, and he immediately loosened his grip. “Well, what happened to _‘new experiences are fascinating’_ and all that?” he questioned, pulling on the reins a little before Andromeda could start galloping. His friend was nowhere near ready for that -he was doing his best to resist the mare’s cadenced springing movement, and it would soon leave him sore and bruised. “Come on, rise with her. Follow me, look at me.”

“Must I?”

The Vulcan’s forehead bumped into his head, and Kirk elbowed him on the ribs to get him back in line. “Don’t you wanna see the fox’s den?” he coaxed invitingly. That seemed to win him over, as no further protest came from Spock for the whole duration of the trip. After a handful of minutes, Jim started to feel vaguely worried about his alien charge, wondering if his silence was a sign of distress. “Are you okay back there?”

“I am adequate,” the Vulcan pleasantly said, leaning against him to peer up at the flashes of bright blue just barely visible above the thick branches of the maple trees. “The experience does have its merits.”

 _Yes!_ Kirk mentally cheered, _he likes it!_ “Oh, it does, now, doesn’t it?” he lightly teased, “I _told you_ you’d be a natural. Just roll with it.”

“Rolling does not seem conducive to the activity,” Spock replied flatly, sounding very much like a computer, “Are you sure you are as experienced as you claim to be?”

The human laughed so hard tears filled his eyes, and he very nearly forgot to take the right turn on the forked path; he caught himself at the right moment, and Andromeda huffed loudly as she swerved, causing the Vulcan to jump into the saddle and flatten himself against Jim for fear of falling.

“Easy, girl,” Kirk cajoled into the mare’s twitching ear. After the horse had calmed down some, he straightened and twisted around so he could look Spock in the eyes. He was edgy, and a little too expressionless to actually _be_ emotionless, but his cheeks were brightened by a healthy dose of green and wavy locks of velvet hair had escaped his ponytail and were flying about his neck and chin. _Cute._ “And easy you, too, Spock! You’re squeezing the life out of me!”

“My apologies,” the half-blood murmured, once again relaxing his hold, “I was caught unaware.”

Shaking his head in gentle amusement, Jim lifted a hand to point forward, where the vegetation thinned out a bit to make way for the golden rays of the bright June sun. “We’re almost there,” he exclaimed merrily. “And, well, seems sort of late to ask, but, uh… are you comfortable with this amount of contact?”

“I do not mind.”

That was… weird. It was a good kind of weird, but weird all the same -after all, this was an alien for crying out loud! Before Spock arrived at the farm, Kirk had made sure to educate himself about his customs and traditions, and he knew for a fact Vulcans regarded any kind of physical contact as deeply private. _Oh, well_. His guest wasn’t _most Vulcans_ , after all. Thinking it unkind to voice his curiosity aloud, he simply nodded, and they spent the rest of the ride surrounded by the pleasant white-noises of the forest.

When they dismounted (not without quite a fuss on Spock’s part) Jim left Andromeda free to graze in the lush grass of the tiny clearing they had stopped in, and indicated they should sit. “We must be very still,” he whispered, watching as the half-blood settled himself down gracefully, his movements light and fluid into Earth’s lesser gravitational pull. “We don’t wanna scare the foxes away.”

“Will they show?” the Vulcan inquired, squinting in the direction of the hidden hole in the ground the human had indicated.

“They will if they feel safe enough around us,” Kirk explained, trying and failing to contain a fond smile at the sight of Spock’s barely masked engrossment. “You’re new here so it’ll take some time.”

The alien’s green-tinged lids fell to conceal his wide, earnest eyes. “I understand. If it is of no inconvenience to you, I would wait.”

“Good.” Resting his back against an ancient tree, Jim relaxed fully, feeling a strange sense of companionship and familiarity envelop him -it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He was quite a sociable person, instinctually drawn by cheerful crowds and thriving amid a large web of friends and acquaintances, and even so it was rare for him to find himself so at ease with another, especially someone he had met but seven days ago.

Honestly, he had liked Spock from the first moment he’d looked at him – all wrapped up in loose, too-large-for-his-thin-frame robes, an air of mixed agitation and excitement escaping the wary politeness of his gaze – but in the following week he’d gotten to know him, live with him, and he had yet to see something he _didn’t_ like. There was this halo of insatiable curiosity about him that Kirk just couldn’t resist, not to mention his unique brand of dry humour, which he had only recently begun to show and already felt normal, part of a routine.

“You are remarkably quiet,” Spock pointed out in a low voice, driving him from his drowsy musing. “Is something the matter?”

“Nah,” Jim said, stifling a yawn into the palm of his hand before levelling an inquisitive stare on him. “I was just wondering. What do you wanna do with your life?” He made a circling motion with his fingers, as if waving away the present into the future. “After you finish your studies.”

If the question came as a surprise to the Vulcan, he did not display it. “I have not yet decided,” he admitted. “Have you?”

“I’m gonna be a Starship Captain and _boldly go where no one has gone before_ ,” Kirk declared. He was well aware his eyes were sparkling and his voice filled with unbridled passion, and he had to make a conscious effort not to throw his arms up in the sky to illustrate his point. “I might be only fifteen but I get pretty good grades in school, and I know more about ships than most people. I _know_ I can make it.”

“I do not doubt it,” Spock told him sincerely, “You would make a fine officer for Starfleet.”

“So would you,” Jim threw in, a little carelessly -it wasn’t the first time he tried to jokingly convince a friend into joining the Fleet. Yet, as the words spilled from his mouth, he realised that this once he meant them, and they rang true and beautiful in the trembling afternoon heat, painting an image he could not bring himself to refute. “You could become a damn great explorer, I feel it. You’re _born_ for it.”

“Illogical, Jim,” Spock countered softly, “How can you possibly tell?”

Kirk laughed under his breath, and made a tiny gesture to indicate the Padd the Vulcan had resting on a fabric case in his lap. “It’s quite obvious. You’re a science officer to the core, a natural. Come on, you can be my First.” He was only half kidding, and he could not stop himself from leaning forward. “We’d be the best Command team Starfleet has ever seen.”

Spock shook his head, then, a hint of sadness playing about his warm eyes. “Jim, I will join the Vulcan Science Academy in one year, ten months and seventeen days.” He straightened his back, and what little light managed to filter through the leaves flickered madly over his stern expression for a moment. “It is father’s wish, and I will not disappoint him.”

Over the course of one week, Jim had learned that there were subjects he’d better avoid entirely around his guest, and the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth was on top of the list; yet he had also learned, from things Spock had said and comments he’d made, and from his gestures and the unobtrusive way he had of carrying himself as well, that his brilliant, kind, conflicted friend had been largely mistreated on his home planet, and, really, to the human leaving it entirely seemed like the most logical choice. So it was tentatively that he asked: “Is it _your_ wish too?”

The half-blood looked at him blankly. “The Vulcan Science Academy is one of the most prestigious institutions of the entire planet, perhaps even the Federation.”

“Yeah, but is it what you want?” Kirk insisted, fuelled by the worrying lack of enthusiasm in the other’s level voice.

“What I want is irrelevant,” Spock stated then, raising an eyebrow at him as if to point out the futility of his question.

Jim’s eyes widened. “It is _not_!” he blurted out, outraged and horrified. “You are your own person. You should be allowed to choose for yourself!” Taking notice of the Vulcan’s stricken face, the human gentled his tone, but his voice stayed strong and passionate, a counterpart to their muted surroundings. “Spock, what you want is not irrelevant. It’s _you_. It’s _your_ career, _your_ future, _your_ life! Don’t give it up.”

Spock was quiet for a mighty long time, evidently processing Jim’s words and his righteous anger. Just as it seemed as if he would finally speak, Kirk caught the hint of a movement out of the corner of his eye, and he very slowly turned towards the half-forgotten den in the woods. “ _Hush_ , she’s here. Look,” he breathed.

The Vulcan slid soundlessly by his side, observing the red-and-white muzzle with rapt fascination burning in his focused gaze. “She is female?”

“Yeah, and she has a litter. Watch.”

Apparently deeming it safe enough, the mother fox disappeared into the dark tunnels for an instant, and when she emerged, four cubs surrounded her, stumbling slightly on clumsy paws; they darted across the clearing and were gone. Spock had not dared draw a breath.

After another few seconds of awed silence, he crossed his legs into the grass and returned his eyes to Jim. “As I child I would often find myself staring at the stars,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips together, “I longed for the day I could reach them.”

Kirk shifted closer to him, lured in by the weight such a confession bore, especially when made by a Vulcan. He knew more was to come, so he patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts. “I am now aware Starfleet is not a viable option for me. And yet, as illogical as it may sound, sometimes a future in space is all I can envision.”

Jim cocked his head to the side, bringing his hands forward to rest them on the grass, bridging the small distance between them. “The stars… they call to you. They’re beckoning.”

“Yes,” Spock whispered, “They are.”

“Then you can have them. If you want.”

“I do not know that they are worth it,” the Vulcan said, retreating slightly. “One should not let himself be ruled by wants and desires.”

“No,” Jim agreed, “But what if what you want is the right thing for you? The good thing?” He got up and patted him once on the shoulder, smiling as Spock tilted his head backwards to keep looking at him. “You don’t have to answer this right now. You’ve still got, what, two years? Just… promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I shall.”

* * *

 

_Like strawberry wine and seventeen_

_The hot July moon saw everything_

_My first taste of love, oh bittersweet_

_The green on the vine_

_Like strawberry wine_  

* * *

 

The night air was clear and chilly, laden with the rich scent of wet grass and the gentler perfume of the ephemeral evening primrose; its yellow and blue flowers were scattered nearly everywhere, and appeared to shine faintly under the silver light of the full moon. A faint breeze rose delicate waves over the lake’s surface, and as they washed over the pebbles they seemed to murmur, a continuous, rhythmical splashing.

Spock closed his eyes for a moment, listening. Hidden into the bushes and the treetops, crickets were chirping, and there were owls in the distance, occasionally calling to one another in their low, hooting voices; now and then, bats flew low above the ground, and the hectic flutter of their wings could be heard. It was all so… _alien_.

“This is very different from the desert,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the creatures dwelling in the woods, “At night, there is almost always silence.”

Next to him, Jim let himself fall on his back, stretching languidly into the checkered blanket he’d spread out so they wouldn’t get cold. “I can imagine. Vulcan has no moon, right?”

“Indeed.” He chanced a glance at the human, wondering if he, too, should lay down; if he did, he calculated the action would reduce the distance between them to a mere five point eleven inches. It _was_ an appealing prospect, and perhaps the very reason he hesitated, so used he had grown to denying himself even the littlest things. Conflicted, he wrapped both arms around his legs and sank his chin into his knees, returning to staring at the dark water, then at the moon. “It is quite a striking sight.”

Kirk smiled at him, and the Vulcan found himself fighting a rising blush, aware it would show all-too-clearly against his pale complexion. “ _It is the very error of the moon; She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, And makes men mad_.”

Spock bit his lower lip, thinking fast. “A quote?” he asked, curious. At the human’s nod, he ventured: “Shakespeare?”

“Correct!” Jim cheerfully approved, “ _Othello_ , act five.”

As if by some sort of arcane magnetic pull, the Vulcan’s gaze drifted back to the human’s, and they stared for longer than was generally considered polite. It wasn’t the first time, and Spock did not even contemplate the idea of looking away -over the course of his stay, he had become absolutely captivated by this Jim Kirk, with his gleeful manners and strong presence and the sunshine glow he radiated, offering warmth and sympathy without ever asking anything back. Had he not devoted himself to the Way of Surak, he would have said he had been bewitched, but he knew there were a million logical reasons why he was drawn to the boy like a moth to a flame.

“What’s on your mind?”

Spock blinked, sat up straighter -illogically feeling as if he had been caught misbehaving- swallowed, then said the first thing that came to his lips: “I wonder if mother misses the Earth sky. She is human, after all.”

Jim frowned, apparently deep in thought. “I think she might. I mean, I don’t know _her_ , but I know _I_ would.” His frown dissolved soon enough, and he smiled again. “But it would be worth it if I had a family somewhere else.”

“She often says so,” Spock admitted, “Vulcan is not an ideal planet for a human, but she claims to be content. And she and father frequently travel because of his ambassadorial duties.”

“See? It’s not a matter of _where_ , but _with whom_.” Kirk’s grin was bright, and the Vulcan found himself enthralled by his simple, emotional wisdom, and he could not fault his logic.

Satisfied the matter had been settled, Jim patted the blanket invitingly: “Speaking of company, come on down,” he demanded, “It’s a vital part of the human stargazing experience.”

“Indeed?” Spock said again, for lack of a better answer. Moving slowly and carefully so he could keep himself in check, he laid onto the rough fabric, fixing his eyes on the wide expanse of the universe. He felt the human’s warmth bathe his left side, and he shivered, thrilled by such close proximity -he could hear Jim’s heartbeat and his even breaths, and smell the clean scent of his shampoo. He did not dare turn towards him for fear of losing control.

“Yeah,” Kirk murmured, raising his hand as high as possible as if he could touch the stars. “Now you can see it all. There’s the Swan, and the Dolphin, and the Little Fox…”

The corner of Spock’s mouth lifted into the ghost of a smile. On Vulcan they had different constellations, and he knew not how to set the figures Jim was describing apart from the infinite patterns of light drops, but the human’s voice was soothing and melted pleasantly into the sounds of nature, so he crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed into the night.

Five minutes passed in that fashion, until a shuffling noise alerted him to the fact that Jim was propped up on his elbow, facing him. Swallowing around the knot of anticipation that had formed in his throat, the Vulcan turned over, staring at the freckles scattered over the other’s nose, at the golden hue of his wavy hair, at the softness in his gaze. “Are you cold?”

“I am adequate.”

Kirk raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t _believe_ you,” he muttered. “I told you to put on a jacket, but did you listen? Of course you didn’t!”

Spock slipped his hands inside the hems of his long sleeves. “I apologise.”

That seemed to be enough to appease Jim, because he heaved and exasperated sigh and then smiled again. “Do you wanna go home?”

“I would rather stay.”

“Well, then, come closer, let me warm you a bit.” The human spread his arms wide and narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t give me that look. It’s only logical.”

It _was_ logical, and the Vulcan capitulated, shifting so close they touched, and Jim wrapped him in a half-embrace, letting him place his head on his shoulder and pressing him against his body. Spock was frozen -this much contact was overwhelming, Kirk’s emotions were washing over his mental shields, his breath was tickling the point of his left ear, his warm hand rested on his side just above his heart, his scent was everywhere, and somehow he was not getting enough oxygen, he was dizzied… There were so many things to be felt, processed, understood.

“Is this okay?” Jim asked gently.

“Yes,” the Vulcan said at once, knowing that, for all that he was confused and even a little scared, he did not wish to move away -closer, yes. Always closer.

Kirk’s rosy fingers were tracing meaningless patterns over his lilac shirt, and Spock’s attention zeroed in on them -he wondered what it would be like to have those same fingers brush against his hand… He blinked, feeling heat rising into his cheeks, thrown by the direction his thoughts had taken; perhaps he was in need of meditation.

“Spock?”

He did not look up. “Yes, Jim?”

The question that followed did not come entirely as a surprise: “Can I kiss you?”

 _Yes_. “Jim, I… I will be leaving for Vulcan in a month and nine days.”

The human shook his head vigorously, chin brushing into Spock’s hair, mussing it up. “I don’t care!” he uttered in an ardent whisper, “You’re here now. It’s still July. I… I really _like_ you. Spock, please?”

The Vulcan was silent for several minutes, pondering. He thought of the previous month, of how they had played chess late into the night almost every day, of how they had once gotten drunk on heavily spiked hot chocolate, of how Jim had laughed when Spock had attempted to make breakfast and failed miserably, of how they had finished building the Kelvin model in three point twelve hours because it was raining, of how he had allowed the human to braid his hair and put flowers in it, of how he had learned the secrets of pillow forts and pillow fights. He thought of how he had never felt as accepted and validated (not a half-breed, not a danger, not a hindrance) as when he was in the presence of this bright, carefree, understanding individual.

And really, there was no other answer to be given. “ _Yes_.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Spock tilted his head back so he could meet Jim’s lips… at the same time he grasped the Vulcan’s hand and brought it closer to press their fingers together. Surprised, the half-blood blinked up at the human, whose answering smile was made all the sweeter by the faint glow of the moon.

“Hey, I did my homework!” Jim laughed, letting their palms meet and then interlacing their fingers. Spock was entirely lost for words at that point, so he contented himself with simply staring, hoping his eyes conveyed at least a fraction of the awe and admiration welling up inside him. “Come here, you,” Kirk whispered then, leaning down so he could claim the Vulcan’s mouth for his own.

The kiss was warm and soft and _new_ , full of dangerous, irresponsible promises neither of them had the heart to keep in check – the moment was suspended in time, and reality seemed far enough that concepts like _distance_ , _impossibility_ , _tradition_ simply dissolved into nothing to be replaced by the wonderful way they were entwined and the feelings of elation and fondness tingling on their skin.

When they parted, Jim’s cheeks were deep red and his eyes had acquired a bright sheen; he looked giddy, overjoyed. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, inching towards him to run a hand along his spine. “So beautiful.”

This time, Spock did not fight the blush that spread across his face, and very hesitantly reached forward to return his embrace, burrowing his nose in the hollow beneath the human’s neck. Cradled in his arms, he felt so incredibly secure and at peace, as if the other’s soothing presence was enough to tame the war raging between his two, irreconcilable halves. “You are very aesthetically pleasing as well, Jim,” he mumbled into fine golden skin.

Tracing the shape of his pointed ear with a fingertip, Jim brushed his lips into his hair. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The Vulcan hummed under his breath, and pushed any thoughts of parting and hurt from his mind, focusing instead on the pleasant coolness of the night, the exotic sounds punctuating the quiet, Kirk’s lovely scent enveloping him. Such a tranquillity he had never experienced, not even during meditation, or when he would walk the desert alone with I-Chaya, a Padd in his hand so he could shed some light around them.

“Hey, Spock. About tomorrow. What do you say if we go to the holos? Dinner afterwards?”

“I am agreeable to that.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“Of course. It is the twenty-third of July.”

“I know you know what that means, smartass.”

“Indeed.”

* * *

 

_I still remember_

_When thirty was old_

_My biggest fear was September_

_When he had to go_

* * *

It was the first of September, and Spock had to leave. Jim felt… weird, numbed, in a sense, as if he was moving at a sluggish pace, and everything he did, said, heard was filtered through the disbelieving daze of a dream. It was true that, not wanting to waste a moment of their last morning, they had set the alarm at an ungodly hour, even before the sun rose.

They had taken the habit of sleeping together in the human’s bed, huddled up close beneath a thin sheet (entirely for the Vulcan’s comfort), and when they woke that day they spent several minutes just laying there, watching each other with sleepy eyes. Jim joined their fingers between them on the pillow, and with his free hand he caressed the light green freckles that now dusted Spock’s cheeks and nose. The half-blood blushed so prettily, and then curled up against him, resting his head on his chest, just above Kirk’s heart.

And there was something truly moving about those simple yet deeply meaningful gestures of his -the way Spock’s lips parted around a trembling breath and his fingers squeezed Jim’s own (gently, so he wouldn’t hurt him, but the contact was enough that the human could feel the sadness pouring off him), the way he moved until there was no space to separate them, until all they knew was each other’s presence and the soft, loving touches they shared.

Jim wanted to say something, but for some reason he restrained himself: it was in moments like this one that silence was perhaps the best choice, and, really, holding this alien to him -arms locked as tight as he could and mouth pressed into shiny black hair-was all he could do, all he wanted to do for a _very_ _long_ time. The unexpected thought shook him profoundly, though he did not find within him the strength to be alarmed, or even just surprised, by it: there were much more pressing matters to attend to.

After having placed a delicate kiss to Spock’s forehead, he slipped out the bed and pulled his lovely companion up with himself, wrapping his favourite plaid shirt around him so he wouldn’t be cold.

They walked out the porch side by side, and for a while they stood still, watching the sunrise. The dewdrops scattered over the grass shone like crystals in the dim light, but Jim, who had been pry to this magnificent show many times before, contented himself with staring at the Vulcan, whose wide eyes reflected his amazement at the dance of colours before him.

“Spock?” Jim murmured, breaking the silence for the first time in almost an hour. “Have you ever heard of strawberry wine?”

Spock turned towards him, threading their fingers together as he frowned minutely, then shook his head in denial. Kirk grinned a little: “Wait here just a second,” he said, letting go of the other’s hand -and it was all he could do not to simply reach back and drag him along for the short time it took him to fill one glass with the sweet drink.

He carried it outside and offered it to his guest, who cradled the fragile goblet with care. “My Grandpa used to make it,” Jim explained, “Have a sip. It’s good, I promise.”

The Vulcan raised a sceptical eyebrow at him, showing him that now familiar expression that painted his face when he was questioning his sanity. And it was weird, that today Kirk got to see him in person and then… he just wouldn’t anymore. He pushed the thought firmly from his mind.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Spock asked, sniffing the contents of the glass. His eyes widened -he was obviously surprised by how pleasing the aroma was.

A chuckle escaped the human. “You know damn well it doesn’t work on you.”

“I shall rephrase: are _you_ trying to get drunk?”

Jim leaned forward to brush their lips together. “Shush. You worry too much, sweetheart.”

Conceding, the Vulcan brought the glass to his mouth and took a tentative sip of the scarlet wine, keeping his gaze fixed on Kirk. “The fragrance is agreeable.”

“So you like it!”

“I do.”

They laid a tablecloth on the wooden floor of the porch and ate breakfast outside, sharing soft kisses that tasted like apples and strawberries. Too soon, it was time to leave: they had to drive all the way to De Moines, where they would catch the transporter to Denver, and then to San Francisco.

“All right, you got everything? Good.” Jim snatched his luggage from him, carrying it with one hand as he closed the door with the other. It was clear the Vulcan wanted to protest, maybe reclaim his bag, say something along the lines of _‘I am three times stronger than you, it is only logical’_ , but Kirk wouldn’t leave him room for it. “Please,” he said, “Let me.”

And Spock understood, and he offered him his non-smile, falling into pace beside him. Inside the hovercar, they did not speak: the half-blood leaned his head against the human’s shoulder and fell asleep. Jim wrapped an arm around him, relishing in the velvety feel of his too-large robes, and counted his slow, even breaths.

It was noon when they finally arrived, and since the shuttle for Vulcan was due to depart at five, Kirk got his companion a vegetarian sandwich and bottled tea, and a kebab for himself. They talked of everything and nothing, silly things that would soon be forgotten. The conversation was stilted, uncomfortable, laden with the weight of their impending separation, and it seemed that, for as much as both tried to behave as if nothing had changed or was to change, the few hours they had mocked them with their briefness, hovering until they became a third presence between them. Jim wondered whether it was wrong to refuse to face the goodbye until the latest possible moment, but he wanted Spock to have a happy memory of their last day, and the station _was_ a very engaging place, there was so much to do…

Somehow nothing was fitting, and after having toured the place twice, they ended up sitting on a stone bench inside a small, well-kept garden that could boast the successful growth of one thousand, nine hundred and sixty-six alien plants. It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that the half-blood did not immediately go and snap a photo of every last one of them. Instead, he settled next to Jim, pressing an ozh’esta to his fingertips.

“I must admit, when I first landed on Earth I believed this was to be a rather unsettling vacation, and that I would be looking forward to returning to Vulcan.” Spock sighed openly, leaning his elbows on his knees so he could rest his chin in his cupped palms; his long hair fanned over the right side of his face, cascading on his chest. “I was mistaken.” His lips curved by a millimetre or so, and his eyes turned earnest: “Thank you. You have made this worthwhile. I shall… send you a copy of my dissertation, if you wish.”

Kirk laughed, patting his forearm. “Yeah, that would be… cool. I can’t wait.”

“You are mocking me,” Spock muttered.

“No, I’m not.” He smiled, trying to put the Vulcan at ease. “I’m seriously gonna miss you, sweetheart.” He wasn’t expecting the half-blood to answer in kind, so it came as a shock to hear him murmur an agreement, an honest, brief “Likewise.”

“But we shall keep in touch,” Spock added a little shyly, “And you are welcome to visit Shi’Kahr whenever you wish.”

Jim carded his fingers through his black locks, pulling just enough that it tickled, and drew the alien’s hand into his lap, tracing patterns on his pale wrist. “I’d love that, maybe next summer, when I’m sixteen.” He swallowed. “So… any chance I’ll get to see you at the Academy?”

Spock stiffened noticeably, his expression turned apologetical and his eyelashes fanned down to cast long shadows on his high cheekbones. “I do not think that will be the case, Jim. I -I regret that I cannot… My father…”

“No, relax. I understand. It’s fine. Really.” He did his best to mask his disappointment, though he knew that with his companion’s touch telepathy there was no emotion he could truly hide. But what else could he say? He couldn’t possibly ask him to give up his family to go waltzing around the galaxy, could he? “I shouldn’t have brought it up. You don’t have to… We’ll figure it out.”

The Vulcan bowed his head, staring at his feet. “Forgive me.”

“Hey.” Kirk brushed his hair from his face and gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek, whispering against his skin: “I brought you a gift.”

“Is this also a human tradition?” Spock asked, looking up at once, “I was unprepared, I have nothing for you.”

“No tradition!” Jim said, forced brightness in his voice. “I wanted to!” He reached into his small backpack and pulled out a tiny, obviously antique book: “It’s _The Little Prince_.”

Spock took it gently, observing the watercolour illustrations with great interest. “I am unfamiliar with the story,” he admitted.

“It’s the story of a boy who travels the galaxy searching for friends,” Kirk murmured, “I thought it was fitting.”

“Indeed. Thank you, Jim.”

Just then, the ancient clock began to strike, two, three, five beats. “I must go,” the Vulcan stated, quite unnecessarily, and then he got to his feet, sliding the book inside his luggage, and let the human hoist it upon his shoulder again.

“Yeah. I’ll walk you there.”

Side by side, they returned to the shuttle, taking their time because every instant counted. Vulcans were filing neatly by the entrance, a stream of serious faces and quaint hairdos, the kids toddling calmly next to their parents.

Spock and Kirk trailed behind; the human returned his bag, and the half-blood made to leave, though his fingers seemed to linger on the other’s flannel shirt. _Stay_ , Jim thought fiercely, _I want you to stay_. He did not say it, though, well aware that it would only make it more difficult for Spock to leave -they both knew that truth was better left unacknowledged, knew it was pointless to voice the foolish wish of more time, just another week, a day, anything. “Would you… wait a moment, please?”

The alien turned fully towards him with the air of one who was begging for an excuse to do so. “Jim, I must…”

Jim raised his hand and placed it firmly on his shoulder, then looked him in the eyes. He took a deep breath. “Spock. You’re a brilliant, beautiful person.” The Vulcan was clearly thrown, and he parted his lips as if to speak, but something about the human seemed to halt him. “Remember that, will you? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise -not even your father. Okay, sweetheart?”

Spock swallowed audibly, cheeks aflame, gaze burning with an intensity he rarely showed; he did not (could not) acknowledge his sudden declaration, but in the silent touch of his hands there were a million words encased. “On my planet,” he whispered, stepping closer, “Public displays of affection are frowned upon. But I would not be opposed if you were to kiss me now, Jim.”

They held each other tightly for that last kiss, and Jim kept his eyes wide open, wanting to commit every instant to memory, wanting it to be _forever_ and _right now_ and _tomorrow_ and _every year_. How unwise of him, to think about _always_ when he was but fifteen. The half-blood slid away, then, and he let him go.

He watched him climb into the shuttle with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was so displacing to suddenly see the Vulcan leave his side and vanish, forever out of reach -he had gotten so used to doing everything with him, even though they had been together for little over two months… But now he wished to follow, and he couldn’t. He balled his hands into fists, his blunt nails pressing into the tender skin of his palms -not that he cared, really.

Spock’s face appeared behind the darkened glass, and he waved a little; Jim smiled brightly at him and raised the ta’al, mouthing _‘Goodbye, stranger’_ because he knew it would make the corner of his mouth lift in what the half-blood swore wasn’t a smile. Then the shuttle took off and the Vulcan was gone.

Kirk remained standing on the platform for long, frozen minutes, asking himself why it was so difficult to turn his back to the sight of the empty station. It may have been ridiculous, but it felt to him as if walking away made the separation more final, and it was only a quiet beep from his Padd that shook him in the end.

 _Hello, Jim_ , Spock had written, _I have just left Sol. I believe you will find these images pleasing._ Attached was a picture of Earth and one of the Sun.

Smiling against his better wishes, Jim sent him a few star emoticons and a heartfelt _‘Fascinating’_.

Distance was a bitch, but perhaps they would be spared the pain.

* * *

_A few cards and letters and one long distance call_

_We drifted away like the leaves in the fall_

_But year after year I come back to this place_

_Just to remember the taste_

* * *

Nearly two years had passed since then and it was time for Spock to make a decision about his future. Sitting in his mother’s garden, he looked down at the tiny book he held open in his hands, brushing his fingertips very lightly along the side of the fragile pages. The scent of Jim and Earth had faded long before, but the watercolours were vivid as ever, and just as entrancing -they were not drawn well (the author himself had stated as much), but there was something about them that made them so very real.

The Vulcan traced his nail over the shape of a tiny fox standing in a field and raised an eyebrow at his own wistfulness, half-annoyed by the undeniable fact that he was still thinking about the one summer he had spent in Iowa in the company of a most amazing being. Jim might have not meant the metaphor quite that way, but it was fitting: Spock had let the golden-haired human tame him and now he was left behind.

They had kept in contact for little more than a month, and then Kirk had simply… vanished: the Vulcan had sent him thirty-four messages over the course of seventy days, and he had even attempted to initiate a sub-space call, all to no avail. He had been worried at first -had something happened to Jim? Was he incapacitated, lost, hurt?- but after a number of weeks spent in constant wait of a reply he had come to the logical conclusion that the human had lost interest in their conversations, and evidently in him.

It was a common development of terran relationships, this drifting apart with no apparent reason but that the novelty had lost its bloom; an inordinate amount of meditation allowed Spock to accept this, and move on. _Kaiidth_. There was nothing he could do to change his current situation, so his only option was to surrender to the evidence and turn the page.

Oh, he was familiar with the concept of heartbreak (illogical, his heart was well in working order) and knew it would not be easy to overcome this failure, but his studies took up most of his time, and he had always been quite adept at suppressing unwanted thoughts and feelings. Twenty-one months were enough that he could now remember Jim and feel nothing but gratitude for what they shared, for the memories he would always cherish.

And if there were nights he gazed at the stars and longed for the mysterious glow of the moon, he could cope.

Spock set the book aside and crossed his legs upon the bench, resting his elbows on his knees. He brushed his long hair back and touched the tip of his left ear, thinking about his double heritage and how it had affected his daily life. He was nineteen, and by now he knew that, though he might appear Vulcan from a distance, he would never be one to the others; likewise, he was aware that no amount of emotionalism would convince the humans he was one of them. There would be no place he could belong, the exception being, perhaps, Starfleet.

It was why he had considered enlisting to begin with, aside from the fact that he believed it to be a most engaging career. The Academy was a more diverse space than what he was used to, and he was certain it would be easier for him to blend in, there -or maybe he hoped it would be. Honestly, the choice had been made so many years before… the first time he had accompanied his father on a diplomatic mission, the first time he had travelled the void onboard a starship, the first time he had been so close to the stars.

The question that still plagued him was not whether Starfleet was the right choice for him, but rather if he could face the consequences choosing Starfleet was sure to bring, if he could face the universe on his own. He had always been convinced it was an impossibility, and yet…

_“You could become a damn great explorer, I feel it. You’re born for it.”_

Jim’s words rang in his mind, and he recalled the talk they shared, the human’s belief that the stars were their first, best destiny. But how could he turn his back to his parents after all they had lost? After both Sybok and Michael had left, never to return? How could he ask of them the one thing they were against, and expect a blessing? How could he make that choice? How could he put himself and his wishes above all else? How could he be that selfish?

_“You are your own person.”_

Spock threw his head back and stared at the white-hot Vulcan sky, at the birds flying high, mere dark speckles against the burning sun. If he turned to his right, he knew he would see in the distance the austere profile of the Science Academy, and to his left was the Hall of Voices. He kept his eyes fixed upwards, letting his imagination run free for once: in a just a few years, he could be sailing across that same sky, exploring foreign and fascinating planets…

Perhaps he would visit some other world if he worked at the Academy, though Professors generally led a very sedentary life; perhaps he could settle and learn to be content with what he had and the path that had been traced for him the day he was born. Following his father’s wishes was the logical thing to do. It would take some sacrifice on his part, but he had never given his desires that much room in his mind.

_“Spock, what you want is not irrelevant. It’s you. It’s your career, your future, your life! Don’t give it up.”_

Would he really be giving up so much? He contemplated the endless years ahead of him, years of distrust and subtle racism and ostracism, years of having to constantly prove himself so others would respect him and consider his opinions, years of loneliness and of never being good enough. Being a researcher and teacher at the Science Academy was less than appealing, and Spock felt as if he would be wasting his potential spending his life confined in a lab.

In space, though, he could give his all and it would be the _best_ , in space he could learn so many things more, he could become someone worthy, someone valuable, he could rise above the prejudices he had faced for so long and leave them behind, meaningless and forgotten.

In space he might find a new home.

_“What if what you want is the right thing for you? The good thing?”_

He would confront his father. He was joining Starfleet.

* * *

 

_Of strawberry wine and seventeen_

_The hot July moon saw everything_

_My first taste of love, oh bittersweet_

_The green on the vine_

_Like strawberry wine_

* * *

Jim sighed softly. Standing in front of the shelf he had just appropriated, he was arranging his many paper books in a neat line, trying to fit them all in the crammed space. _The Academy! Finally_. Only now that he was unpacking did he fully realise that he was really, truly _there_ , that he was closer to achieving his dream than he had ever been, that he had made it.

For some absurd twist of fates, he was alive and he had made it this far. It wasn’t fair (and, honestly, did he really expect it to be? Had he learned nothing from the past two years?) but it simply _was_ , and he would have to give his best to _earn_ the chance he had been given.

There must have been a reason why he had survived when so many others hadn’t -when he hadn’t been able to save them. He had been so helpless, so useless, and he did not deserve life, he did not deserve to see his wishes granted and laid out before him like that. He did not deserve the beauty of smelling the green grass of the campus and feeling the warm sun of San Francisco on his skin, nor did he deserve to stand inside his new room, having just made a new friend, and claim the place as if it were his own.

So Jim would have to do the most -top grades, extra courses, volunteering, he wasn’t picky, what mattered was that he worked himself to oblivion- though he knew it would be barely enough to forget the screams and hunger and pain and loss and fear, barely enough to live up to the expectations he placed upon his own shoulders so he could stand to look at his face in the mirror.

Kirk set the last book down and picked up his Padd, looking his timetable over even though he’d already memorised it the day before, then sighed again. _This is it. No turning back now._

He thought maybe he should write to Spock, tell him; getting his contacts should not be that difficult for him -there was only one human-Vulcan hybrid in existence, after all, and his father was a famous Ambassador. Yet Jim hesitated, and like so many times before he decided not to. He had lost his friend completely during his ordeal in Tarsus IV: with his possessions taken away from him and a crowd of rebellious kids to lead to safety, with no food and little water and zero meds, getting his hands on a Padd had been the last thing in his mind.

Then, after rescue had finally come and he was alone (alone, because the others had died, he had failed them) he thought back to that summer before everything went hopelessly wrong and the past seemed so far, as if it belonged to the life of a different person, someone who believed in the goodness of people and of the world. He had felt… so detached, so distant and cold. That kind of sunshine, that kind of relationship did not really belong to him anymore.

And so, because he was hurt and angry and _empty_ , he had wilfully lost Spock, too.

It was a little late now to try and get him back -and, truth be told, it was better he let the Vulcan forget him and move on: he had just enlisted in Starfleet, and who knew what would happen to him in space? He was not so arrogant anymore that he believed the universe would fall into place just for him.

“I’d have never dreamed you could be this quiet, kid.” His roommate’s Southern drawl pulled him from his musings, and he turned towards him with a half-smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just… thinking about an old friend, I guess,” Jim said, opening his bag so he could start fitting his clothes into his side of the wardrobe.

“You’re awfully young to be having old friends, kid,” Bones mocked him, flopping down on his bed with a soft huff. “Ya nervous for the first day?”

“Not really, no,” Kirk answered truthfully.

McCoy raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, then, apparently unable to keep still for too long, he crossed the room to cast a dirty glare in the direction of Jim’s books. “So what’s with all the paper?”

“I just like it.”

“You _just like_ it. And do you know how much dust these are gonna catch?” the doctor griped, grimacing, “Are you sure you’re not allergic to _dust_?”

“Yeah, last time I checked.” Jim chuckled; then, not knowing what to do with himself in the two hours left before his first course, he offered, without giving it much thought: “Uhm, how about a game of chess?”

“Chess?” Leonard seemed unimpressed. “I’ve never really fancied chess. But if you’re up to it, I can teach you how to play a really mean game of poker.”

“Alright, then, poker it is.”

* * *

 

_The fields have grown over now_

_Years since they've seen a plow_

_There's nothing time hasn't touched_

_Is it really him or the loss of my innocence_

_I've been missing so much_

* * *

Spock walked across the nearly empty campus with a spring in his step and his eyes fixed on the Padd he was reading his orders from. The _Enterprise_ was due to leave the next day, and Captain Pike had requested he fill the position of Chief Science Officer, which he had accepted, though he privately felt he was far too young -only twenty-three years old, nothing to a Vulcan- for such a responsibility. It was going to be his first quinquennial mission, a test in and of itself, and now this? The offer had come unexpected and only a week before -the scientist was still trying to acclimatise to the idea that there would be so many who would have to answer to him for their work, and so many he’d be held accountable for.

“Spock! Hey, Spock, can I talk to you for a second?”

Spock froze.

Standing still in the lush grass, Jim held his breath as the Vulcan turned slowly to level an icy stare on him. He had been trying to find a way to meet with the alien for ages, but somehow he always managed to vanish into nothing -it was obvious Spock was avoiding him, and, honestly, the human couldn’t blame him for it, though he grew more and more frustrated as all his attempts at catching his attention proved fruitless. Now, though, there was nowhere for the scientist to hide, and he must face him.

“Mister Kirk,” the Vulcan stiffly greeted, gazing down at the Padd with an unreadable expression, spine straight, one arm behind his back and body angled away from the other. He peered up at Jim, hoping to be inconspicuous, noting in the back of his mind that he was just as attractive and radiant as before, though his face sported an uncharacteristically grave look.

“Listen, I know you have every right to be pissed at me,” Kirk began, swallowing hard, “I know I was terrible to you. I’m so very sorry.” He faltered, unsure what he could say to convey his meaning, to convince the Vulcan to give him another chance -ever since he’d realised Spock was actually at the Academy, unexpectedly close, he had wanted to have him back in his life, so, so much. “And I also know I should have done this way sooner, and if I were you I wouldn’t forgive me, but I’m asking anyway.”

Spock frowned minutely, tasting the human’s guilt in the tension-filled air around him. He had not expected an apology, especially not after all that time had passed, and yet he was… disappointed, that Jim was approaching him merely out of a misplaced sense of chivalry and obligation, and not out of interest, or because he desired his company. “I am familiar with the concept of _summer loving_. I understand that human relationships are transitory and at times meaningless; you need not feel compelled to apologise. I do not require it, nor do I wish it.”

Jim shook his head at that and took a step towards the unmoving Vulcan, desperate to meet his eyes. He had never seen him so distant, or so frosty. “But it wasn’t meaningless!” he protested, some of his sadness and regret pushing through the layer of calm he was attempting to project. “I cared for you… I miss you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Spock turned off his Padd and crossed his arms, pressing his lips into a thin line. He categorically refused to even consider the human’s words, his earnest gaze, lest they became too real, too alluring -he would not, could not allow himself to long for him again, when he knew he was not to be his. “If that is all, I shall leave.”

“No! Please, don’t.” Jim reached out as if to encircle his arms with his fingers, then thought better about it and returned one hand to his own forehead, massaging briefly. “Look, my room’s right here, I’m alone. Come in, so we can talk.”

“I have no desire to talk,” Spock said plainly, though Kirk’s soft, imploring eyes were digging holes into his cold composure, and he knew he must flee or they would break him. He swirled around and began to stride away from him, but this time the human did grasp his wrist in a strong grip, pulling him back.

The Vulcan turned to him, shaken and suddenly furious. “Release me,” he snarled, “I do not wish to hear what you say. _I do not believe you_.”

Jim pulled away as if he’d been burned, hurt playing about his face as he tried to keep his cool. For but a second, Spock felt horribly vindicated, and then a rush of shame brought blood to his cheeks; he fought it back, struggling to tame his abrupt emotions while at the same time he strived to understand them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kirk whispered, never once lowering his eyes from the Vulcan’s, “And I swear, if I could, I would _change_ this… I was no different than anyone else, was I?”

To this Spock preferred not to reply, thinking it beyond himself to reproach the human his beautiful talks of how valuable he was, how brilliant, how unique. In the end, the half-blood should have known not to take them to heart, for they were said in kindness, but not in truth…

“Oh, Spock, if you had any idea how sorry I am. I lost my Padd with your contacts and things happened and I was a mess and then it was too late and…” Realising his words were piling up in a jumble, he stopped to draw in a deep breath, then started over. “Spock, I… I wanted to see you again, but I thought you were going to the VSA -you said you were- and I just… gave it up. I’m very sorry. I should have done better. Been better.”

Spock blinked twice at him, caught entirely by surprise by his admissions and the hope they were stirring inside him; no matter that he immediately squelched it, damage was already done: he leaned towards the human and unconsciously relaxed his posture, glare melting in the face of such soft, bare sincerity.

Jim went on, floodgates now opened and thoughts flowing out of control: “This is so foolish and so selfish and I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but… my offer still stands. Wait for me? I’ll be a Captain one day, soon enough. Be my First.”

“I wish to believe your words but it is an illogical thing to do,” Spock admitted quietly, conflicted.

“It doesn’t have to be logical,” Kirk murmured, pulling at his sleeves somewhat nervously, “Just please forgive me. Or at least let me explain myself.”

Eventually, the Vulcan yielded. “Very well. I shall listen.”

Without wasting another moment, Jim turned on his heels, clearly expecting the half-blood to follow, and Spock did, no questions asked, he followed him as if he’d always had, as if he always would. The human kept silent until he had closed the door behind them, and the Vulcan breathed in the scent of paper books that had become so dear to him. For a moment they just stood, facing one another, as Spock let his eyes roam freely over the beloved features and thought Kirk looked like a sun -alight, aflame, glowing.

“Meld with me,” Jim asked abruptly.

“Jim, I…” And as that half-stuttered name left his lips, the Vulcan knew he was lost already. “That would be unwise.”

“Why?” Kirk’s open gaze bore into him, and he moved closer, still speaking in that unique tone of voice that was wholly his, so soft and yet so passionate and _strong_. “Why unwise? If it’s the only way you’ll believe me, I’ll gladly do it. I missed you more than I could ever tell… and I hate myself for letting you go.”

Spock suddenly remembered he was holding the Padd -he looked around and hastily placed it on one of the two desks before it could fall from his trembling fingers. “Are you truly offering your mind to me?” And he had forbidden himself from dwelling on it long before, but oh, how much he wanted a meld…

“Yes.” Jim smiled for the first time, tilting his head back by a millimetre or so. He was shaking slightly, caught in a heady mix of anticipation and tension, and he stared at the Vulcan, _willing_ him to cave, to give him a chance. “I want us to meld.”

Spock raised his hand slowly, touched the tips of his pale digits to golden psi-points with the utmost reverence. A breath passed between them, then the delicate yet solemn whisper of an ancient phrase, and they were floating.

Like pure water over crystal, the meld extended across their minds, drawing impalpable ropes into nothing to thread them together, to make them one. In an explosion of colours and not-sounds, it was as if they were meeting anew, as if they had been strangers to each other until that moment when all was clear, and right, and stunning. Yet at the same time they felt they had been searching for so long, and that the search was finally over, because they were joined.

Jim was appalled at the intensity of this alien, incomprehensible touch -in some ways reminiscent of an embrace, but this was ethereal, thrilling, and it changed everything, everything, obliterating all that had been before and leaving in its wake only a sense of wonder and awe. For it was Spock, the knowledge of him, of his hopes and dreams and future and fears and insecurities and past and affections and kindness and pain and love, of his life, of his _self_. And it was brilliant, stunning, timid, dignified and so, so heart-breaking, because the Vulcan had no idea, and was only now finding out through Kirk’s own mind -he doubted and wavered and shied away but Jim would make him see.

In a rush of elation and amazement, the human came to understand… ‘ _It’s you, it’s always been you’._ He recognised his kin and companion, and memories and wishes alike melted together to create magnificent shapes…

 _‘T’hy’la’_. Spock’s entire being was burning with the beauty, the inevitability of it all. _‘T’hy’la, to have found thee…’_

 _‘Yes, yes, yes!’_ Their souls merged, and Jim knew and felt and believed in the secrets of t’hy’la, for somehow they were a part of him too, somehow they spoke to him as deeply as they had millions of Vulcans since the beginning of time. _‘My t’hy’la’_.

Joy rippled across the delicate link they shared, and as they bared their hearts to one another, they found they had never been this close -and they never wished to be parted again. They blended, and their combined minds swam cradled in the fondness that sparked between them.

For long moments they let themselves be swept away by the steadily deepening meld, by the all-encompassing feeling of completion it brought, by the incandescent trails it lit inside them, by the absurd yet compelling desire to simply lay there forever. But their time was running short, and when Spock eventually broke the connection, it took them more than a full minute to come back down to reality.

They stood in the middle of the room, gasping and quivering and holding onto each other for balance. It sufficed Jim looked into the Vulcan’s eyes -still trying to reconquer a sense of individuality, of _me_ instead of _us-_ and they were kissing, hands fumbling, searching, wanting. Kirk pulled at Spock’s now-short hair, loving the velvety feel of those neat strands, and dragged him flush against his body, as if trying to merge with him physically rather than mentally. “God, I missed you so damn much,” he muttered into the alien’s open mouth.

“I missed you as well, Jim,” the Vulcan confessed, and it was extremely liberating to finally voice at least a fraction of that bittersweet blend of regret and hurt and nostalgia that had haunted him since he was nineteen.

They fell onto the bed without really thinking about it, without allowing themselves even the smallest room for doubt or hesitation, for they could not afford it; since this desperate, glorious first time could very well be their last, they wouldn’t waste so much as a minute… What was important -necessary, imperative, _vital_ \- then was that they learned one another, mapping out skin and counting breaths and burning together until they couldn’t _think_ anymore, until the last rays of the dying sun had faded away in a triumph of reds and oranges and molten gold, until they were tired and sore and left voiceless and still they would ask for _more_ and _again_ and _closer_.

Unwilling to rest ( _Shut your eyes and it’s morning, shut your eyes and it’s tomorrow and you have to go_ ) they played chess between the sheets using Jim’s old set, and whispered stories about the years they had been apart. For the first time ever, Kirk spoke of those ugly, terrifying days in Tarsus IV, of the famine and the fury and fear and loss of humanity, of the shattering of every single ideal he’d ever defended; Spock held him and murmured tenderly into his hair, telling him of his fight with Sarek, of how the Ambassador had looked upon him with nothing in his eyes and then with rejection in his voice he had banished his son for his choice, of how the half-blood still believed it had been right to leave, right to pursue his dream, and he had Jim to thank for having gathered the courage to do so.

Kirk caught him by the wrists and kissed him breathless, pushing him down so they lay side by side again; the chessboard slipped from the bed, elegant pieces scattering on the floor in a chiming symphony, but neither of them minded, nor did they care that it was well past dinnertime and they had now gone hours without food. The human’s hand found its way to the Vulcan’s neck, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to pull lightly at his hair again.

“You cut it,” he murmured, shifting closer into the pillow they were sharing.

Spock arched an eyebrow. “That is evident,” he sassed, stretching for a few seconds before he went boneless into the other’s embrace. “You do not like it?” A nearly imperceptible tinge of self-consciousness entered his low voice, and he tucked his head under Jim’s chin, hiding from his gaze.

“Oh, I do. Very much.” He traced his fingers down the alien’s back, along his bumpy spine, then back up, drawing around his shoulder blades and up his arm until he was tickling his palm. “It’s neat. And cute.” Leaning over to land a kiss on the tip of one exposed ear, he added: “Brings out these.”

“Jim, you are speaking a falsehood,” Spock scolded flatly, “I am not _cute_.”

The sound of Kirk’s mirth filled the room when he squeezed the Vulcan to himself. “You are too. Let me show you.” He searched for the half-blood’s hand and nuzzled into it, smiling when the fingers splayed instinctually in the position for a meld. “Please.”

“My mind to your mind…” Their breathing matched, they finished in unison, urgently, across the surging connection: _My thoughts to yours_. And then it was all too easy to get lost once more in the brightness of their blending souls and the fascinating patterns they painted -they wanted nothing more than to chase that magnificent feeling, hold it captive, keep it for their own.

The stars were fading when they fell asleep, wrapped around each other, in body as in mind.

Jim awoke to find the Vulcan watching him silently, eyes warm and expression gentle, unguarded; he reached across the small space separating them to caress a hollow cheek. “Hello, stranger,” he murmured affectionately, brushing dark bangs back to reveal a pale forehead which he promptly kissed.

Spock pulled away enough that he could look him in the eyes when he said: “ _Nashaut_ , _t’hy’la_.” The corners of his mouth turned upwards in what constituted a sweet smile, and Jim beamed in return, recognising the greeting as something almost always used only between bonded pairs.

“Shall I make you breakfast, beautiful?” he purred, rolling about among the sheets and pulling the half-blood with him. The scientist sat on the edge of the bed and gazed up at him, seriousness etched deep into his face. “I must decline, Jim,” he said, sighing a little, “I have but ninety-three minutes and forty seconds in which to get ready and beam aboard the _Enterprise_.”

Kirk sobered at once, and he grasped the Vulcan’s hand to squeeze it firmly into his own, heedless of the hitch in the other’s breath. “Right. Okay, let’s get your things.”

After Spock had showered, Jim helped him dress and fixed his hair and make-up, every gesture shrouded in a layer of solemnity that rendered them both silent, slowing their movements even as they felt the rushing of time, of every second that passed them by. Rich kisses were exchanged and arrangements were made to truly keep in touch, and suddenly the half-blood found himself incapable of conjuring up a reason to linger further into the human’s arms. He closed his eyes, rested his forehead against the soft cotton of the T-shirt Kirk had slipped on, then straightened his back and stepped away.

“Don’t leave,” Jim blurted out despite his firm resolution not to. He was sleep-deprived, bone-tired and had just discovered his t’hy’la, only to have him taken from him so soon. _How cruel_. “Spock…”

The alien touched his index and middle fingers to his before withdrawing completely. “I must.”

Kirk knew, and he didn’t blame him. “I’ll come see you off,” he offered.

A vague shadow of pain crossed the Vulcan’s face: “Please, do not.”

Jim could only nod, understanding, and he followed as the scientist retrieved his Padd and turned it on again. “Come back to me, promise?” he urgently asked, refusing to entertain the thought that this could be the last he saw of his beloved friend.

Spock’s gaze melted. “You as well.” He slid forward once more, until their noses brushed and his world was reduced to nothing but the golden tint of the human’s irises and the elusive green that speckled them. He thought that no matter what happened to him during the mission, no matter what the future had in store for him, he would forever cherish this memory, cherish _him_. “Goodbye, t’hy’la,” he breathed into a round ear, “I shall wait for you.”

Kirk showed him the ta’al and Spock pressed their hands together, then he walked through the door and left. Jim felt an overwhelming urge to scream as he watched the Vulcan part from him for a second time, and though he tried to restrain himself, a growl escaped his pursed lips. His earlier exhaustion seemed to vanish as he abruptly came to realise that he wouldn’t see him for far too many months, and he began pacing aimlessly about the tiny room, worried and stressed and fuming.

But there was nothing he could do to change the facts, now, was there?

The fight drained from him as swiftly as it had come, and he flopped down into the bed. It smelled of Spock. Jim closed his eyes.

* * *

 

_Strawberry wine and seventeen_

_The hot July moon saw everything_

_My first taste of love, oh bittersweet_

_And green on the vine_

_Like strawberry wine_

_And seventeen_

* * *

Jim was buzzing with carefully controlled energy as he stepped out of the platform, taking in the _Enterprise_ ’s transporter room with a tinge of pride in his pleasant expression. The steady artificial light caught in the folds of his golden shirt and shimmered off his rank insignia. “Permission to come aboard,” he said, voice ringing with happiness and anticipation as he finally raised his eyes to meet those of the silent Vulcan standing on attention near the control panel.

Spock’s face was unreadable when he looked at him with nothing but polite professionality in his demeanour, but his gaze held a warmth the human easily recognised. “Permission granted, Captain Kirk.”

Smiling broadly, Jim walked to him and held up the ta’al, greeting him formally as was expected of him. “Mister Spock, it’s an honour.”

“Sir.” The Vulcan nodded in acknowledgement, then turned towards the man operating the controls. “This is our Chief Engineer, Mister Scott.”

“Ah, yes!” Kirk’s smile grew. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Mister Scott.”

“Aye, sir,” the engineer agreed good-naturedly, “All good things I hope!” They laughed at that, but soon Scott dismissed himself: “If you’ll excuse me, sir, ma’ lady needs some more tending to before ship off tomorrow.”

The newly-appointed Captain was left alone with his Chief Science Officer, and for a few moments they stood silently side by side, absorbing the undeniable truth of each other’s presence. “So…” Jim began, sliding his fingers in a feather-like touch over the alien’s blue sleeve. “Would you be so kind as to give me a tour, Mister?”

“Of course, sir,” Spock murmured, and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards for but a moment.

They fell into step easily, walking perhaps a little too close for two who had supposedly just met, but the ship was nearly deserted, her corridors quiet and dimly glowing, everything powered down except for life-support systems. Jim was more than familiar with the layout of the _Enterprise_ , had studied all there was to know about her, and yet he was perfectly content to listen to his Vulcan’s cadenced tone as he led him around.

It was electrifying, to be standing with him after so much time apart; oh, it was true that shore leave brought them together once or twice a year, but nothing could compare to the knowledge that now they were reunited, never to part again. Nothing could compare to the prospect of sharing life and adventures, sharing forever. Already it felt familiar, _right_ , to be tracing those steps that took them to the bridge and the laboratories and the shuttle bay and the mess, the recreation rooms, the greenhouse, the gym. They _belonged_ there.

“Captain’s quarters,” Spock intoned, and Jim blinked up at him, torn from his musings and thoroughly distracted by the way the scientist seemed to be waiting for him to do something. They stared for what appeared to be ages but were mere seconds instead, then Kirk reached out his hand and dialled in his code so the doors would open; they slid inside soundlessly, and the lights turned on automatically at 50%.

The Vulcan clasped his hands behind his back and stilled. “I trust you are satisfied with the tour, sir,” he very formally said.

Jim smiled but other than that he did not reply.

“May I remind you, sir, that we are scheduled to depart in thirteen point seven hours?” the Chief Science Officer added, utmost propriety radiating off him in waves.

The Captain raised his eyebrows at him, and opened his arms in welcome: “Spock. Come here.”

Spock glided gracefully across the floor, crowding the air with his clean, spicy scent, and slowly went to fill the spaces around him until there was nothing between them, and their racing heartbeats met. The embrace was long and unhurried, so gentle and soft and tight it made Jim want to burst from the happiness bubbling within his chest; the Vulcan’s cool fingers were skimming up and down his back as the alien burrowed further into him, stealing his warmth, and they were finally _home_.

“T’hy’la.” It sounded like a prayer, like music, like a charm born of all the months they had spent alone, and of those that were to come. “ _T’nash-veh t’hy’la_ …”

In a firm yet tender grip, Jim caught hold of Spock’s upper arms, then slid one hand over blue fabric so he could join their digits in the ozh’esta. Their lips met, and the kiss, too, was leisurely and slow, as they cherished and relished in one another, blissfully taking their time.

Out of breath, the human pulled away, bumping their noses together as he did so. “ _Bond with me, Spock_.”

* * *

_The hot July moon saw everything_

_My first taste of love, oh bittersweet_

_The green on the vine_

_Like strawberry wine_

_Strawberry wine_

* * *

The clouds were ablaze, shining yellow with reflected light as the sun slipped liquidly behind the horizon, bidding farewell to the blushing sky. Spock tilted his head back and closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his parted lips and delighting in the strong scents carried by the evening breeze. There was some unquestionable, hidden beauty in simply standing there, existing in the same space where his t’hy’la had grown. Riverside looked to him just as foreign and incomprehensible as it had the first time he’d set foot there as a boy, and yet so much had changed…

“Hello, stranger.” Jim’s soft voice was ringing with love and mirth, and the Vulcan listened to the rhythmic sound of his approaching steps. “Watching the sunset?”

Spock turned to see the rays of the sun paint his Captain and spouse in gold, and he was powerless to fight the tiny smile that curved his mouth. “ _Ashayam_ ,” he greeted, leaning down for a fleeting kiss.

“Care for some wine?”

Kirk offered him a glass full of clear, deep red liquid, which the Vulcan accepted gladly. Strawberry wine was the only alcoholic beverage he found pleasant to the taste, and since it was home-made and quite safe, he allowed Jim to indulge on certain occasions. Shore leave was undoubtedly one of them.

The human wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned his head against his shoulder; Spock welcomed the flash of emotions that poured into his mind at the contact, and enjoyed the sensation of his husband’s warmth seeping into his skin. “So, tomorrow’s our anniversary,” Jim mused. “Anything special you’d like to do?”

“I would like to return to the fox’s den. Perhaps we could ride there.”

The Vulcan picked up on his t’hy’la’s thrilled surprise and sent a wave of affection through their bond.

“Yeah, I’d love that. It’s a date, then.”

“Of course it is a date, Jim. It is…”

Kirk’s laugher cut him short, but he did not mind. “Sassing your Captain again, Commander?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Spock solemnly declared.

“Oh, you wouldn’t, would you?” Jim smiled wide and leaned up so he was whispering in his ear. “You are one lying Vulcan, Mister Spock.”

“I beg you to reconsider, sir.”

Jim huffed out another laughter, squeezing the half-blood’s hips affectionately before he pursed his lips against his neck. “No, sweetheart, I don’t think I will.” He reached for his hand and twined their fingers. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

_Beautiful indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> This is it! I hoped you had as much fun reading as I had writing! Thank you for following me up here!
> 
> And, uhm, to all of those who are waiting for an update on '100 Words': I'm sorry I'm taking so long! Next chapter is sort of very important, and I've placed insane expectations on it for myself, so please be patient! Just a little while longer!
> 
> Thank you all for giving me support! I owe you tons!


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